


For You

by multi_yohanna



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 12:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19928434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multi_yohanna/pseuds/multi_yohanna
Summary: The night before the battle against the dead brings about some long hidden confessions.******“For one of the most intelligent people I know, you really are thick sometimes.” He said instead, and the angry flush she could feel on her cheeks only made his smile widen. She decided she couldn’t take this, him and their stupid conversation any longer, not tonight, not when they could be dead in just a few hours. So she pushed herself off the wall, bowed curtly and turned on her heel, her cloak following her movement in a long, elegant sweep.“Good night, Ser Jaime.”“I came to Winterfell for you.”





	For You

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this has been done many times already, but I figured some innocent fluff and cuteness is always welcome. I hope you enjoy this, and any comments would be greatly appreciated.

The sky was an endless cover of pitch black as she gazed up at it, breathing in the cold fresh air, hoping it would help calm her nerves. She couldn’t see a single star, not even clouds - only quiet, unmoving darkness, so alike the one which had settled inside of her every muscle and nerve, inside her very bones. She leaned against a stone wall, taking in every little thing she could set her eyes on in Winterfell’s courtyard, every little stone, piece of wood or speck of dirt, hoping it would help ground her and stifle the fear that was threatening to suffocate her.

Brienne of Tarth did not like admitting fear, or feeling it, for that matter. She hated feeling weak and helpless more than anything, but the events before her and the impending battle against the dead made her feel just that, and in ways she never knew possible. She had never participated in a real battle before, not really, and usually the prospect of doing so should’ve and would’ve been exhilarating for her, but with everything they knew about their enemies and their strengths and almost non existent weaknesses, she couldn’t help the dread spreading and controlling her every thought.

No one could see it on her face, or in the confident way she moved and held herself, or in her strong voice as she barked commands to soldiers. She was taught better than that, she taught _herself_ better than that, and she would never show her weakness and fear to anyone, friend or enemy. But as the last few hours before the battle slowly edged away and their impending doom drew closer and closer still, her resolve grew weaker by the minute.

Tonight had been the best night of her life. She got everything she ever wanted, and she got it from the man who meant more to her than she dared to admit. He had given her everything: he had made her a knight. It was like she wasn’t inside her own body while it was happening, like she watched it from afar, floating above the scene, watching as he said those words she had dreamed about her whole life slowly and surely, like making her a knight was the best and most important thing he had ever done or would do. The look in his eyes as she rose to her feet left her speechless even more than her new title. 

It was a look she had never seen before. He looked at her like she was everything, like he saw her for the first time and couldn’t quite believe she was real, like he was drowning and she was a breath of fresh air he was waiting for for so long. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take him looking at her like that and she couldn’t take the fact that she was severely misinterpreting what his look meant. So she smiled politely and bowed at the men applauding her and her knighthood, none of them knowing how appreciative she was of their genuine happiness and support, and she left. She left the room, the drunk chatter and singing, and, most importantly, she left him and the goddamned look in his eyes.

And here she was now, standing alone in the cold darkness, fighting with the suffocating mixture of feelings she could barely understand and name and register. Everything she had ever wanted has happened, and she was going to die tonight. The thought of it was the clearest and loudest of them all, and she couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard she tried. She felt so unfinished, so young and inexperienced all of a sudden, so inadequate and wrong. She would fight and die honorably in only a few hours, and she hated that little part of herself that wanted to run away from it all. Not that she ever would. 

She heard footsteps echoing as someone approached her, and there was no mistaking who it was as the familiar tightness in her chest returned and her blue eyes met the emerald ones of the man standing a few feet away from her, looking at her intently, unmoving and unblinking.

He bowed to her and moved closer, so that he was leaning on the wall as well, their shoulders so close they were touching. The touch, the feel of his heat against her arm was equally comforting and maddening and this time, the way she drew a shuddering breath had nothing to do with fear.

“You left so quickly, Ser Brienne.” He said conversationally, and her new title coming from his lips was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. She felt her cheeks flush and she hated the little smirk she saw playing at his mouth because he knew exactly what calling her Ser would do to her. At least, she pretended to hate it.

“It was all a bit much.” She admitted. _You were a bit much._ She felt him look at her from beside her, and his gaze was harder to bear than any fear, any weakness, any battle.

“I’d ask how it feels to finally be a knight, but you are the truest knight in this entire gods forsaken place, and having a fancy title won’t change a single thing.” His voice was soft, no amusement, no jokes. She almost wished he’d just insult or tease her again. She at least knew how to respond to that.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank-” He interrupted her before she could get the words out.

“You have nothing to thank me for. It’s all you. I was just lucky enough to be able to do something good for once.”

“You have done good things, Ser Jaime.” She protested, her voice strong and assured. She didn’t know why, but she needed him to hear it, she needed him to believe in himself like she did, she needed him to see the man she saw: imperfect, flawed, but so, so good.

“You seem to be the only one to believe it.” He chuckled, and his hand found hers. She held her breath as he squeezed her hand with his, his fingers warm and calloused, just like hers. 

“It’s the truth.” She said simply, and he smiled softly, releasing her hand. Her fingers felt cold instantly, and she was both thankful and sad at the loss of contact. 

“Either way, knighting you was the best thing I’ve done, and nothing you say will change my mind.” He told her, turning so he could look at her, his shoulder leaning against the wall. His gaze on her make her want to squirm, but she resisted the urge. “So, how _do_ you feel?” He pressed on, and she cursed herself and the words pouring out of her mouth that she couldn’t control. Not now, not in front of him.

“I feel like I got everything I ever wanted, and I can’t even be happy about it because in just a few hours, I could be dead, and everyone I care about as well.” She didn’t know how much she needed to get those words, those fears out in the open until she did, and she felt like a small weight was lifted from her shoulders, and she could breathe easier, even just a bit.

He seemed startled at her admission, like he never expected her to admit that, especially to him. His hand gripped hers again, and this time, she squeezed back. 

“At least we’ll die with honor.” He repeated her words from earlier and gave her hand another squeeze. She was glad that was all he said, because she wasn’t sure she could take anything more, not now. He seemed to know that too, and they just stood together for a few minutes, breathing in unison, hand in hand.

“You know, I’m probably dying as well, but I never got _everything_ I wanted. It’s funny almost. I spent my whole life unafraid of death, ready for it. Desiring it, even. And now, that I’m finally so close to it I can feel it, I want to live so badly I can barely contain the urge.” He said, breaking their comfortable silence after a few minutes, and she turned at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue, because there had to be more, she had to know what could’ve happened to change his mind and heart so drastically.

“I never got to travel and see everything the kingdoms have to offer as a free man. I never got to leave Westeros and see what lies beyond. I never got to tell the woman I love that I love her, I never got to kiss her...I could go on and on, really.” He trailed off, and she looked away and down at her shoes, her cheeks reddening again. Of course he was thinking about the woman he loved before dying, it didn’t come as a surprise to her at all. Despite everything, Jaime was someone who craved and gave love as readily and as easily as breathing. It was who he was, and everything that happened to him could never change that. How much it hurt to hear him say those words was a different story entirely, but she wasn’t about to admit that yet, not even to herself.

“At least you know she’s safe.” She said, although the only reason she cared even one bit for Cersei’s wellbeing was him and knowing how much he’d hurt if something happened to her. Beyond that, she couldn’t care less, and it surprised even her. His chuckle took her by surprise, and she looked at him once more. He looked sad and thoughtful, shaking his head with a small smile that wasn’t a smile at all.

“King’s Landing is far enough. Even if we lose she’ll have enough time to escape, or maybe even enough men and resources to fight back-” She continued, but stopped when he looked at her again, that same look in his eyes, the one she ran away from earlier, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I loved Cersei. She’s a part of me, one I will probably never be rid of completely. But I left her, everything she was to me and everything we had the moment I chose to come here and fight for the living.” He said quietly, and she could barely hold his gaze for a second before she had to look away, that familiar hope returning to her heart in whispers so soft she could barely feel it. But it was there nonetheless, and she hated herself for it.

“You chose to honour your oaths, everyone here is gratef-” 

“Oh fuck my oaths, I didn’t come here to honour my oaths, you thick headed wench.” His frustrated outburst took her by surprise, and she barely stopped herself from flinching as he flung the words at her, so similar to the ones she screamed at him what seemed like a lifetime ago already. The old nickname infuriated her, and made her heart flutter at the same time. She hadn’t heard it in years, and she couldn’t decide how she felt about it just yet.

“Why did you come, then?” She bit back, and the smile on his lips was so full of disbelief and amusement she wanted to punch him. 

“For one of the most intelligent people I know, you really are thick sometimes.” He said instead, and the angry flush she could feel on her cheeks only made his smile widen. She decided she couldn’t take this, him and their stupid conversation any longer, not tonight, not when they could be dead in just a few hours. So she pushed herself off the wall, bowed curtly and turned on her heel, her cloak following her movement in a long, elegant sweep.

“Good night, Ser Jaime.”

“I came to Winterfell for you.”

His words stopped her immediately, and she was convinced she had imagined them, so convinced she almost continued on her way, but his body blocked her path as he caught up to her and stood before her, his eyes looking straight into hers.

“I came to Winterfell for you.” He repeated. There was no amusement, no joking smirks, just him, Jaime, his eyes sincere and clear and looking at her like she was the sun he hadn’t seen in gods know how long. The intensity of it all made her afraid to speak up at all, afraid her voice would betray her, just like her heart was doing.

“I might be dying soon, and I won’t get to do many things I want, but this I can do. I can tell the woman I love how i feel. Well, I can try.” He gave her a shy grin, and she could barely contain herself. Whether she wanted to run and never look back or take his hand and never let go, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything.

“Ser Jaime, I don’t-”

“Jaime, Brienne. Just Jaime. I’m telling you I love you, you can at least try not to be so formal.”

“Jaime.” She whispered, but she couldn’t go on, because there was no way this was actually happening, there was no way he was here, in front of her, telling her he loved her, looking at her the way he was. Maybe she was dead already. Maybe this was death for her, a weird mixture of heaven and hell she’ll never escape. Everything made more sense than this being reality.

“Now would be a great time to say something.” He said. “I’m not sure I can take this for much longer, Brienne.” Still, she stayed silent, and she could tell he was growing restless and unsure.

“Brienne, I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?” The situation seemed so ridiculous to her she almost laughed, but even she, as unsure and inexperienced as she was, knew that laughing is the last thing he wanted. So she just nodded.

His hand rose to cup her chin, his eyes darting back and forth from her eyes, down to her lips. He leaned in slowly, giving her all the time in the world to prepare or stop him, but how do you prepare for something you’ve wanted more than anything but knew would never have? His lips touched her cheek, warm and soft against her skin, in stark contrast to the cold air all around them. He lingered just a moment longer than propriety allowed, but they were never ones for propriety, anyway. Then his lips moved to her other cheek, repeating the process, so tantalizingly slow it infuriated her. As he moved away, her hands acted on their own accord. She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. 

She could sense his surprise, but she was sure he couldn’t have been more surprised than her. She realized, a second too late, that she wasn’t sure what to do. But his surprise lasted barely a second, and the next thing she knew, his lips were moving against hers, and she was following, like she knew exactly what to do, like she was made for exactly this moment. It came naturally to her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pressing into him as his golden hand pressed against her lower back and his other hand caressed her cheek lazily as he kissed her.

He drew back, his eyes darker than she had ever seen them, and a self-satisfied smirk on his face that made her blush. His smile only grew wider.

“If I had known this would have gotten a reaction out of you, I would’ve started by kissing you.” He joked, and she had to look down and away from him.

“I wasn’t sure if you were serious.” She said so quietly she wasn’t even sure he heard her. But it was the truth. Years of mockery, laughter and insults might have created an armour she used to protect herself, but beneath it all, she was hurt, and insecure and lonely, and she hated that part of herself more than anything. His fingers found her chin again, and he made her meet his eyes again.

“I am serious. I love you. I want you. Only you, and I’m ready to repeat it every day for the rest of my life if you need me to. If you’ll have me.” He added hastily to his declaration. She felt a tear sliding down her cheek, but for the first time, she found that she didn’t care.

“I’ll have you.” She said, and she hoped he knew her voice wasn’t shaking because she was unsure. His answering smile assured her he knew. He kissed her again, without hesitation this time, slow and soft and sure.

“You know, you’re not allowed to die now. A few hours will be entirely too little for me to show you how much I love you.” He teased, but she could see a touch of seriousness and desperation there too, ones she felt and knew all too well.

“Neither are you.” She said. She knew they were most probably foolish, and there was no way to know what would happen when they finally met the army of the dead, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it, or even think about it. Especially not now.

“Let’s go inside before I freeze completely.” He said, almost whining as he turned and started walking, his hand outstretched for her to take. 

“Jaime?” She called, and he turned, his eyes searching her face immediately. She took a deep breath.

“I love you, too.” The smile on his face made her smile just as wide, without caring how ridiculous they probably looked, grinning like fools in the middle of Winterfell’s courtyard in the middle of the night. The way he gripped her hand told her he needed to hear those words just as much as she did, if not more, and she vowed he would never feel unloved or undeserving of it again. 

She didn’t say anything else as she let him guide her back inside, their hands intertwined. She was still scared out of her mind, even more so than she was just minutes earlier. But she was surer, too. Surer of herself, surer of the man beside her, and surer of their victory, because she had everything she ever wanted, and she was going to fight for it, until the end. She knew they were far from finished, that this, whatever it was that they started, would require much more talking, and trust on both sides, and admitting things neither of them were ready for. But first, they needed to survive, and she would make sure of it.

The sky was still black, the air was still insanely cold, but the future - the future was bright.


End file.
